


The Man's Man

by dS_Tiff



Category: due South
Genre: Episode Related, Friendship, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 20:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/299688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dS_Tiff/pseuds/dS_Tiff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Immediately after the events of 'The Ladies Man', Ray is still very emotional and Fraser helps him come to terms with what happened.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Man's Man

**Author's Note:**

> This was the first piece of fan fiction that I ever wrote. This particular episode is one of my favourite episodes of due South and I was inspired! I hope you enjoy it.

THE MAN'S MAN

Detective Ray Kowalski couldn't help it. It had just happened. The few seconds it had taken him to walk from Beth Botrelle's front door to his car, where Fraser was waiting for him, had seemed to take forever. He'd walked straight past Fraser, opened the door of the GTO and slumped into the driver's seat, closing the door behind him. Fraser and Diefenbaker had taken up their usual positions and as soon as Fraser had shut his door, that's when it had happened. Suddenly Ray couldn't hold it in any longer. He had tried, he'd tried really hard. Initially Fraser had averted his eyes, assuming his partner would want some degree of privacy, but he'd soon realised that was not what Ray needed at that moment. He had glanced across at where Ray sat, crumpled in his own misery. Ray had attempted briefly to return Fraser's glance, but it was no good and he'd hung his head again as the tears flowed.

What's wrong with me? He'd thought to himself. The last time he'd cried like this was the day his divorce had come through. He'd been alone in his apartment and he'd cried because he'd known then that he finally had to accept there was no going back and the loneliness had been too much to bear. Now he was in his beloved car and he was with his best friend, the friend who'd believed in him, who's support had been unwavering throughout the last few days and he'd felt strangely safe, like if this was going to happen again there was no other place he'd rather be. He knew Benton Fraser wouldn't judge him for this.

Initially, Fraser had thought perhaps he should say something, offer some words of support, but in the end he'd just reached out his arm and placed his hand between his friend's shoulder blades, moving it gently and eventually settling it on his shoulder. It was a gesture that meant so much. Ray thought he could actually feel the Mountie-strength, if there was such a thing (and Ray was sure there was) flowing into his body, willing him to be strong too.

So now he drew a deep breath and then another and managed to regain some composure. He heard Fraser's voice, "Ray?"

Oh God Fraser, please don't ask me if I'm OK, thought Ray, I just couldn't lie to you, not now.

"Ray, are you alright?" Ray lifted his head slightly and caught his friend's concerned gaze. "No" he said simply.

"Ray, we should go" said Fraser and Ray remembered that they were still parked outside the Botrelle house. "I'll drive" continued Fraser and Ray, too weak to argue, just nodded and they silently went through the swapping seats ritual that he and Fraser had perfected, clambering over each other, while Diefenbaker watched from the back. Why they didn't just get out of the car and walk around to opposite sides, Dief never did quite understand, but they always did it this way, it was one of their 'things'.

They drove along in silence, Fraser hoping Ray would use the time to gather his thoughts regarding recent events, although Ray was actually trying desperately to think about anything but that. Soon they pulled up outside the Canadian Consulate and Fraser parked the GTO. Ray, who hadn't been paying any attention to their route, suddenly realised where they were. He'd assumed Fraser would drive him home.

Fraser, noticing Ray's puzzled look, explained, "It's still early Ray, I thought maybe you would like some tea. I have a particular blend in mind that may..." he hesitated slightly, searching for appropriate words to finish his sentence. He eventually settled on, "calm you."

Ray managed a small smile. He certainly didn't want to be alone right now and he knew his friend would respect his wishes if he didn't feel ready to talk. He wasn't sure how he felt at the moment and he knew that eventually he'd need to sort out the weirdness that was spinning around in his head, but he trusted Fraser not to push him too far too soon. "Sounds good," he managed. They got out of the car and went into the Consulate.

Fraser guided his friend towards the large reception room where there was a big, comfortable sofa with a coffee table in front of it and assorted chairs. "Have a seat," he instructed, "I'll make that tea." He shot a look directly at Dief, and the animal duly followed Ray towards the sofa, settling his head on Ray's lap and allowing Ray to ruffle his ears. Fraser headed towards the kitchen.

As he made the tea, Fraser thought about what he was going to say to Ray. He wanted to help him fight whatever feelings were causing him such despair. He tried to think of an Inuit story, they usually helped, but none seemed appropriate. Maybe he could share his thoughts from a time when he had felt similarly bereft, but there was only one occasion that kept forcing its way into his head and he certainly didn't want to talk about her this evening.

He turned to place a dirty teaspoon into the sink and nearly jumped out of his skin. "Dad!" he exclaimed, "I wish you wouldn't do that!.”

"Sorry Benton," replied the ghost of Bob Fraser. "How's the Yank?"

"His name is Ray and I really don't know Dad," replied the younger Fraser, a little forlorn. "I really want to help him, but I'm not sure what to do."

"He certainly needs help, that's for sure," continued the ghost, "he really shouldn't be doing that," and he waved his hands in the air in a somewhat dismissive gesture.

"Doing what Dad?" replied Fraser, a little annoyed at his father's insinuation. "You mean crying?"

"Well you wouldn't catch a Mountie crying," replied Bob Fraser, puffing his chest out. "He needs to pull himself together, be a man!"

"Dad! Mounties are human beings too, aren't we? Will you listen to yourself!" Benton was fuming now, he couldn't quite believe what his father was saying. "Be a man?" he quoted, "oh for heaven's sake! I think you should go now."

"Sorry Son," replied the ghost, he hadn't meant to be rude, he actually liked Benton's new partner, he thought he was a good police officer, a good man. He was only trying to offer his son some advice but, as was so often the case, he hadn't expressed himself very well.

Benton Fraser turned back to the sink and threw the teaspoon he was still holding into it in disgust and it hit the side with a loud clatter. When he looked over his shoulder he noticed that the ghost of his father had disappeared. Shaking his head, he carried the two cups of hot tea back towards the other room.

"Ray, I know you have a sweet tooth, so I have taken the liberty of adding...." he began, but as he entered the room he realised that Ray was holding his head in his hands and was shaking and sobbing again. "Oh Ray," whispered Fraser. He set the cups down on one end of the coffee table in front of the sofa where Ray was sitting and quickly, sliding a small pile of magazines out of the way, he sat himself in the centre of the table so that he was directly in front of Ray. Part of him wanted to pull his friend into a huge bear hug and rock him gently like you might do to soothe a child afraid of monsters under the bed. He just felt so sorry for Ray, but he instantly berated himself. Ray wouldn't want his pity. Ray needed his strength. "Ray," he began, "Ray, look at me. Look at me.”

Ray lifted his head slightly. "What's wrong with me? What the hell's wrong with me?" Ray's eyes pleaded for a reply.

"Ray, there is nothing wrong with you," Fraser began. "This is a perfectly normal emotional reaction for someone in your current circumstance."

Why did Fraser have to make it sound so, so clinical? Thought Ray.

"Ray, this turn of events is not entirely unexpected," Fraser continued. "You have been under enormous pressure these past few days and have experienced a variety of tumultuous emotions. I know you Ray. In the course of normal events, you are not a man to suppress your emotions. If you're angry you punch a wall, if you're excited you're, well..." he paused searching for a suitable adjective, but in the end he simply concluded with "...excitable. You haven't been able to do that in this instance. It was only a matter of time before these feelings became too much to bear and you needed to release."

"Release?" echoed Ray, "is that Canadian for 'cry like a baby'?"

"Ray, you are not a baby," replied Fraser sternly. Why did Ray always have to put himself down like that? "I'm just glad that you feel comfortable enough in my presence to be able to do this. I would hate to think of you going through it alone."

"Yeah, well you shoulda seen me when Stella left..." Ray rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand.

Fraser pulled a crisp, clean, white handkerchief from the pocket of his jeans. Ray accepted the offering and quickly set about wiping his face. The feel of the cool cotton seemed to help steady his nerves. He regarded the item with mild amusement. "Why d'ya bother ironing these things, Fraser?" he asked.

"Because otherwise they would remain creased," came the matter of fact reply. Ray couldn't help a small smile at that, but it soon faded. He looked directly at his partner.

"I'm sorry if I'm, y'know, frightenin' ya buddy," said Ray.

"Ray, you are not frightening me in the least," replied Fraser, calmly.

"Well I'm scaring the hell outta me," admitted Ray.

Fraser briefly closed his eyes, licked his lower lip and pondered what to say next. If it had been a total stranger sitting opposite him, instead of his partner, he wouldn't be having this trouble he concluded, but Fraser's train of thought was interrupted by his wolf, growling and nudging at his knee.

"Oh Diefenbaker, you are absolutely right," he stated, "I'll move to the chair." He got up from the table and handed Ray his cup of tea. "This should be sufficiently cooled now," he said.

"What's up with Dief?" enquired Ray.

"Well, he was chastising me for sitting on inappropriate furniture," explained Fraser settling himself in the armchair. "Thank goodness Constable Turnbull is not here tonight, if he'd caught me he would have created a scene. It may well have turned ugly..." Fraser shook his head at the thought.

Ray chuckled. He could just imagine the 'scene':

 _Turnbull: Constable Fraser, it appears you are sitting on inappropriate furniture!_

 _Fraser: I am most terribly sorry Constable Turnbull, I will move immediately. Allow me to clean the area of the table about which my butt..._

(no, thought Ray, Fraser wouldn't say 'butt', 'ass' maybe? No, definitely not. Now what was that funny word he'd used before...)

 _...about which my posterior was placed._

 _Turnbull: That's quite alright Sir, I will do that for you._

 _Fraser: Please, allow me._

 _Turnbull: Oh I couldn't possibly, Sir._

 _Fraser: No, I insist....._

Yeah, real ugly, thought Ray, smiling inwardly and sipping his tea. "Hey Fraser, this tea's OK," he announced, somewhat surprised.

"I sweetened it with syrup for you," replied his friend.

"Maple syrup?" enquired Ray.

"Of course." Fraser allowed a small grin to form at the corners of his mouth. They two men drank their tea in silence for a moment. Then Fraser began, "Ray," and Ray looked up at him, "perhaps you could try to articulate your emotions verbally?"

What? Thought Ray. "Oh, you want me to talk about how I'm feelin'," it sometimes took him a while to process Fraser's vocabulary.

Fraser nodded, wasn't that what I just said, he thought? "It may help," he continued.

"Nice idea," concluded Ray, "trouble is, I'm no good with words," he said despondently.

"Nor am I good with emotions," replied Fraser with half a smile, "so this could be an interesting conversation."

Ray took a deep breath and did his best. He used words like 'guilty' and 'helpless' and 'angry'. Fraser, for his part, mainly listened, occasionally interjecting when he felt that Ray was being much too hard on himself. "You cannot take the blame for what happened," he said, "it was your first situation, you trusted your superiors, just as you had been taught to do at the Academy. It appeared to be a simple murder investigation, you had no way of knowing what else was going on." He didn't feel that Ray was entirely convinced, but at least he now had an alternative point of view to consider.

The two friends talked for hours and the longer they talked, the easier both men felt about the topic of conversation. Fraser eventually did offer an Inuit story. Admittedly he changed the ending slightly from the traditional version, but it seemed to fit Ray's situation (and it's not like he hadn't done a similar thing before, he conceded).

As the hours passed, Ray's mood appeared to lift slightly. Fraser was pleased. "D'ya ever get like this?" Ray asked him.

"Sometimes," acknowledged Fraser, nodding.

"Like when Vecchio shot ya?" suggested Ray, nervously. If he had just spilled his guts to Fraser, then the least Fraser could do was return the favour, he figured. They had previously spoken a little about that time, but Ray always felt that Fraser had only ever presented him with the facts, nothing different to the 'facts' he'd already read in the files and Ray Kowalski was a good detective - he knew there was more to it.

Oddly, Fraser smiled. "On the contrary Ray," he began, "Ray Vecchio saved my life."

"But he shot ya in the back?"

"I was going with her," Fraser sighed, "after everything she'd done to me, to Ray and I still didn't know at that point if Dief was going to live..." his voice trailed off. "I know it was an accident, but shooting me was the best thing that Ray could have done for me. If I had got on that train..." he shuddered as his voice trailed off again. Fraser desperately wanted to open up to his friend about everything that had happened with Victoria Metcalfe, but he just couldn't bear to. Not yet. Not tonight.

Ray suddenly had a deeper understanding of Fraser's relationship with the real Ray Vecchio. He hoped that he, Ray Kowalski, could be as good a friend.

Ray decided the rest of that conversation could wait for another time and feeling the need to change the subject, he said. "Thanks for comin' with me that day, to the prison, I mean."

Fraser nodded slightly, realising what Ray was doing and acknowledging his friend's empathy. "Not at all," he said, pushing all thoughts of Victoria back into the lead-lined, double-locked mental box that he usually kept them in. "I was happy to offer my support. You felt you needed to visit Beth Botrelle in prison and I do not believe that was purely for your personal absolution."

"What d'ya mean?" enquired Ray, still trying to refocus Fraser's mind away from their previous conversation.

"You knew that something wasn't right with the case, with her conviction I mean. In the back of your mind you knew, even if you had not yet acknowledged it to yourself. You were following your gut feeling again, Mr Instinct," he glanced at Ray with a glint in his eye. It had taken him a while to realise it, but he knew that Ray's instincts were not to be ignored.

Ray wasn't quite sure what his partner was getting at, but the 'Mr Instinct' comment did not go unnoticed. Originally Fraser had used that term in an uncharacteristic fit of sarcastic anger when they'd nearly drowned on that boat (ship, whatever) but now he could tell his friend was repeating it as a more affable term. He grinned back at Fraser and deftly shifted the focus away from himself. "So what was that song, anyway?"

"I assume you are referring to 'K-K-K-KAty'?"

"Er, yeah."

"It was written in 1917, I believe, by one Geoffrey O'Hara and was popularised around that time by a singer called Billy Murray...." Fraser began, but was interrupted by Ray.

"I don't wanna history lesson, Fraser, I meant why d'ya start singin' in the middle of a women's prison?"

"Because it was requested of me," stated Fraser plainly, but then he continued, "and it provided a suitable distraction while I made my observations."

"Observations?" repeated Ray, puzzled.

"Yes Ray. You see when the female prisoner, I'm sorry I don't know her name..."

"Katy?" suggested Ray.

"No Ray, her name was not Katy, however for the simplification of this explanation, I will use that name for her. When 'Katy' was pushed to the ground by her fellow inmate, I was a little surprised that no-one else went to her aid, in particular, the prison guard who was standing directly behind her and clearly observed the incident."

"Yeah, well, prison guards ain't well known for their compassion, Fraser," offered Ray.

"Agreed," noted Fraser, "however as I was helping 'Katy' to her feet I noticed that she flinched when I tried to take her hand in mine. From the weakness in her grip and the bruising and slight swelling around that area I believe that she had recently suffered an injury to her right wrist, an injury that had been left untreated. I also noticed signs of older bruising around her jawbone. I have reason to believe that the injuries were either inflicted by the other prisoner with the full co-operation of the prison guard, or possibly by the prison guard herself. Additionally...."

Ray looked at his partner in disbelief as he continued to describe the observations he'd made. Something to do with lack of eye contact and a change in the breathing pattern of the prison guard indicating her concentrated attempt to veil the truth from them and some other stuff that didn't quite make sense to Ray, but Fraser had seemingly uncovered an established system of abuse taking place within certain sections of the prison.

"....and furthermore," continued Fraser, "judging by her behaviour I believe that, as a result of her being mentally and physically abused by both the prison guard and by at least one, if not more of her inmates, 'Katy' is on the verge of suffering what may essentially be described as a mental breakdown."

Ray was shocked. "You got all that while you were singin' that stupid song? I thought you were just, y'know, being a freak, bursting into song like that!"

"That would have been ridiculous Ray," retorted Fraser, "and besides, you would have noticed it all too, had your mind not been on other matters."

Ray shrugged. He doubted that very much, but at least Fraser hadn't licked anything this time.

"First thing in the morning I intend to report my findings to the Prison Governor. That woman needs my help," concluded Fraser.

Ray shook his head. "Fraser, you're a...you're a..." he couldn't find the right word, so he simply finished with, "...freak!"

"Understood. More tea?"

Ray nodded and passed his empty teacup to Fraser who went back to the kitchen. He made the tea this time, thankfully, without any ghostly interruptions. He hunted around for something Ray may like to eat with his tea and eventually settled on a packet of chocolate cookies that belonged to Inspector Thatcher. He made a mental note to purchase a replacement packet before the Inspector returned from the conference. They were not terribly healthy, he thought, but he felt that Ray could do with an energy boost. He walked back to the other room with two cups in one hand and a plate of cookies in the other. "You know Ray, something I wanted to...." but he stopped short when he realised that Ray had slumped against the arm of the sofa and fallen asleep.

Fraser momentarily contemplated waking his friend and driving him back to his apartment, but in the end he decided not to disturb Ray's rest and instead went to fetch a blanket. When he returned, he removed Ray's boots and slowly swung his legs up onto the sofa to make him more comfortable. He placed the blanket over the sleeping man and returned to the armchair to drink his tea. Very soon, Fraser was also asleep.

xXx

"Ray, Ray, Ray, RAY!" Ray could hear the voice, but his head was pounding and he couldn't quite make sense of anything. "Wake up, you're alright, you're dreaming," Fraser's voice was low, but firm. Ray's eyes snapped open and he struggled to focus on his partner. He tried to move but he couldn't and he realised that Fraser was perched on the edge of the sofa and he was holding Ray's wrists in a firm grasp. "I'm sorry Ray," said Fraser at once, releasing his grip, "you were thrashing your arms around rather violently and I was concerned that you were going to injure yourself, or me," he added.

Ray tried to pull himself to a more upright position, but it felt as though there was a huge weight pressing down on his chest.

"Breathe Ray." Fraser's calm voice again. "Breathe." Ray hadn't even realised that he was holding his breath and he quickly let it go. He struggled to fill his lungs with air again and he looked at Fraser with fear in his eyes.

"They wanted me to do it," he half whispered, "I had the needle in my hand, they tried to make me do it..."

"It was just a dream Ray," Fraser soothed, "you're alright.”

Ray continued to breathe deeply. His t-shirt was plastered to his body with sweat and his hair probably looked worse than experimental, he decided. "I'll get you a glass of water," stated Fraser and he darted out to the kitchen returning moments later with a tall glass of cool water. Ray took the glass and drank it down in one go.

"Feeling better?" enquired his partner.

Ray nodded. "Sorry Fraser" he said.

"Why on earth are you apologising?" replied Fraser, somewhat annoyed that Ray felt the need to do so.

"Y'know," said Ray, by way of explanation, but Fraser shook his head.

"Ray, you are not in control of your dreams and besides dreaming is considered by many to be the mind's way of purging difficult thoughts, allowing you to process and arrange them in a more orderly fashion. Although you may not feel it at the moment, that nightmare probably helped."

Ray didn't know if he believed his friend or not, but at that moment he was willing to go with it. "What time is it?" he asked.

"It's almost three in the morning," replied Fraser glancing at his watch.

"I should probably go home."

"Are you sure you want to? You're welcome to stay." Fraser was still very concerned.

"I'm OK Fraser," smiled Ray, "You've done enough already, I gotta go home and get on with stuff, y'know?" Fraser wasn't entirely sure he knew what 'stuff' his partner was talking about, but Ray continued. "I've gotta stop doin' this now and get back to bein' Ray Kowalski, I mean Vecchio, Detective First Grade, Chicago PD."

"Ray..." Fraser began, but the words of Bob Fraser from earlier that evening echoed in his ears. His father may have been poor at explaining himself, but perhaps he'd been right, sort of, anyway.

"I gotta pee," Ray had pulled his boots back on and was heading towards the other door in the corner. Fraser watched the door close. He sighed. Ray seemed refreshed after some rest, despite the nightmare and Fraser hoped that he'd managed to be of some help.

Just then he heard the sound of breaking glass from across the street and two gunshots rang out. Ray burst back out into the main room drying his hands on his jeans and went to the window to see if he could see anything. "Gunfire," said Fraser, stating the obvious while quickly grabbing his hat, placing it on his head and starting towards the door. He turned briefly to watch as Ray swiftly grabbed his gun, throwing the holster around his shoulders.

"C'mon, let's go, pitter patter!" shouted Ray darting towards Fraser, with Diefenbaker at his heels.

Fraser smiled. Ray seemed almost back to his old self. He had that hungry look in his eyes again. Hunger for the thrill of the chase, the chance to get another criminal off the streets of Chicago, to maybe save a life and at that moment Fraser knew, he just knew that Ray was going to be alright.

 

THE END


End file.
